


Surprise Package

by orphan_account



Series: Delivery [3]
Category: EastEnders
Genre: AU, M/M, Series, multi-chaptered
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-05
Updated: 2012-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-28 23:57:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/313578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I think I'm home</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the Delivery series. Basically Express Delivery told from Christian's POV

Surprise Package

 

 

It was always an absolute pleasure to spend time with Jane and her boys. He loved Brighton, absolutely loved the feel of the place, the friends he'd made, the job he was doing, but had to admit that coming home, well, still felt like coming home.

The minute he saw that familiar skyline his heart leapt, but also settled into that feeling that said: 'at last, home again, at last'.

He didn't regret moving away, but it hadn't been because he wasn't still in love with his home town – he very much was – and after all this time, had to admit that he probably always would be.

So he'd agreed to spend two weeks up there, and as luck would have it an old friend knew a couple who'd just opened up a new hotel and were looking for the right guests.

Well he didn't quite know what would qualify him as such, but maybe they felt more comfortable – initially – with referrals, people who'd been vouched for. He didn't know, all he knew was that their place was wonderful – service, food, attention to detail – couldn't ask for better and he couldn't help feeling that he'd landed on his feet, and that somehow, didn't know how, even better was yet to come.

 

**

So many old faces, old haunts. It was like he'd never left. If it felt like this every time he returned he really should think about doing it a lot more often.

 

The university was across the city from where he and Jane had grown up (she and her partner had moved into the family home when their parents had retired abroad) but he'd spent most of his time working in that area and was very accustomed to students. They were fun – amusing watching them, especially the ones who were so middle class it hurt trying to slum it. He'd worked in a variety of retail outfits – managed a few too – and had, naturally, found himself employing the services of students in most of them, so he certainly recognised a student trying to make ends meet when he saw him.

This one was a First Year – pretty obvious. Pakistani if he were any judge of these things, and he, apparently, had _become_ so.

He wouldn’t say he was only attracted to a certain type of guy: personality mattered more than looks (except when all he wanted was the one, very specific thing), but there was something about Asian, Arabic, Mediterranean men he found quite compelling. He did like the fact that they tended to be quite hairy, of course, and the olive skin helped, but they tended to have a certain type of ...attitude was the closest he could come to describing it, that he found pretty stimulating. They were either incredibly dominant – which he liked, in the right context – or very stand-offish which he found presented a nice little challenge. It became a bit of a goal to get behind all that prickliness, to get them to admit they actually liked blokes, liked being fucked – or at least the _thought_ of it (for the ones who'd yet to take the plunge). This one looked like the latter type – a virgin, probably with girls, too. And really bloody gorgeous, totally aware of it too. Hmm, his favourite type – a cock-tease, who didn't even have the first clue about anything to do with any cock but his own. Irresistible.

 

He watched for at least a week – working out his pattern of work (not hard since they didn't seem to have changed the rota since he set them up years ago!) - then satisfied he'd worked him out to his satisfaction decided to make a move.


	2. Chapter 2

“So, who's the hottie?”

Jo glanced in the direction he was indicating with his stare. “You mean Syed?”

“I do?”

“Well he's the only one who has the bits _you_ seem to like.”

“Correction. I do like girl bits – well the top half anyway – just not near _my_ bits.”

“No idea what you're missing.”

“I will, as always, take your word for it, love. So, good worker?”

She rolled her eyes, scrubbed at a non-existent mark on the spotless table. “Oh like you care. There is only one thing you want to know about him and it has nothing to do with his time-keeping.”

He winked at her. “Well that is not strictly true, actually, darling. Rhythm is very important to me.”

Shaking her head she flicked the cloth in his direction. “You haven’t bloody changed.”

“And that's a good thing, right?” She didn't answer. He was surprised to see her still working here, but she actually enjoyed the job, had never done it for the money, so maybe he shouldn't have been. “How long's he been here? Couple months?”

“About that. We came 'highly recommended', apparently.”

Christian raised an eyebrow. “Bit snooty?”

“Comes across that way until you get to know him a bit. I think he's one of these Asian guys who generally tends to look down on everyone outside their caste or whatever.”

Christian considered, watching him. “I can well believe that. Luckily for me, luckily for him, I don't really care about any of that shit.”

Jo snorted. “Oh and the audience is absolutely _astonished_ at his shallowness.”

“Well the audience doesn't know me very well then, does it?” He hadn't taken his eyes off the guy. He was very slim, slender really, and moved with cat-like grace. Mmm. “Any attachments?”

“What, like an extra willy you mean?”

“Now that would be the clincher, but no, don't want to fight off any jealous boyfriends – or girlfriends.”

“You are so sure of yourself it's criminal.” She glanced in Syed's direction.

Amazing to Christian that there was no sense that he was aware that his ears should be aflame. Obviously one of those people who once they were focused on something paid it their full and undivided attention. Getting better and better by the minute... “I've seen him with a few girls, but he plays for _your_ team, don't worry.”

Christian favoured her with a steady look. “Are we still doing the my gaydar's as good as yours thing?”

“No, because I've already proved that it is – many times!”

“I don't move on straight guys, so obviously I know he 'plays for my team' but thanks,” he finished with an irony he knew wouldn't be lost on her.

“You're welcome.”

“He's in tomorrow, right?”

“He is.”

“Goody.”

She stared at him for a moment, hands on hips. “So that's it? Now I've served my purpose I’m dismissed?”

“Well, yeah. You do have work to be getting on with don't you? Don't want to run foul of the manager, babes.”

This time when she flicked the towel in his direction she made sure it stung.

 

**

 

When Syed turned to serve him Christian saw the irritation in his eye give way to something else, something he couldn't quite name, but would have to file away under the general category of 'interest'.... Better, better and fuck yeah!

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

“So you don't consider Brighton home?”

Syed was a fussy eater, he could tell. He'd dated a few Asian guys and he'd had a job getting any of them to put anything in their mouths – while they were out in public anyway. He'd tackled a few about this, but had never got a really satisfactory answer. Syed had taken one look at his plate and raised an elegant, but very disdainful eyebrow – not turning the disdain _his_ way, but definitely on his taste in nibbles, that was for sure. Christian found this pretty amusing: the fussy ones were invariably the ones completely off the chain wild in bed, so he'd take the fussiness over food any day.

“Love it, don't get me wrong, and when I'm there I don't exactly find myself _pining_ , it's just that when I get up here I feel so at home, so comfy that I often find myself reluctant to go back.” He watched Syed's mouth as he spoke, knowing that he'd be able to gauge a great deal from Syed's level of comfort at this not-so-subtle come-on. There were some guys (straight and gay) who loved to flirt, but who would become quite skittish when the flirting developed even a hint of sexual _intent_. He'd been sure this guy would be one of them, but so far no, no signs of skittishness. He was, in actuality a lot more confident that Christian had anticipated, which, quite predictably, made him just that little bit more intriguing.

“I wanted to go south – to uni - but it didn't happen.”

Well Christian didn't need to to be told that it had something to do with mummy and daddy wanting to keep tabs on their baby, but made a show of ignorance – for politeness' sake. “Didn't get the grades?”

He looked offended, which again told Christian a good deal about the guy. “No, it wasn't that. I got offers, they just weren't...suitable. I'm glad now that I went local instead though.”

Christian smiled into his eyes, which made Syed blush and look down at the table. Oh Christian knew he hadn't exactly meant _that_ , but no reason not to play with him a little. “Me too.” He allowed the silence to build for a while before introducing another subject. “Enjoy the job?”

Syed looked at him, looked at him for a moment as though he'd asked the world's daftest question. As Christian had deduced the guy was a snooty bastard, probably thought his brains put him several rungs further up the evolutionary and social ladder than anyone else around him – certainly anyone he worked with. But he wasn't _all_ bad: he hesitated before answering, sort of glanced around (without really doing so) at his co-workers and shrugged. “I do, actually, more than I expected to.”

“It's the people, isn't it? Pain in the backside a lot of them, but the good ones make up for it, right?”

His smile was quite lovely.   Such a gorgeous looking guy; it would be nice, really nice to have him even for a little while. “Well I don't know how true that is, but the nice ones _are_ really nice.”

Christian laughed. “Yeah, it's true the bastards _can_ ruin your whole fucking day, but you just can't let them, can you?”

Syed was frowning a little, because he'd used the 'f' word? A lot of Asian guys he knew swore every other fucking word, and some of them just _didn't_ – ever. “Sorry, didn't mean to offend you. I've been told that I've got a bit of a potty mouth.”

Syed's frown became one of puzzlement. “Sorry?”

“Thought I'd offended you.”

Syed laughed. “You think I've never heard a swear before?”

Christian grinned, amused. “Well since you're not living in a cave in Tibet no, I'm pretty sure you've heard swearing before. I just know that some people do get a little offended by it.”

A shrug. “I used to, but I don't know, you just get used to it, don't you?” He chuckled. “I just have to make sure I don't get so used to it that I forget myself and start swearing like a trooper in front of my parents!”

 “Oh tell me about – I got such a clip from my mum the first time I used the 'f' word in front of her. I wouldn't even mind, but she swore like a sailor herself!”

“Yes, always one rule for them, one for the kids, isn't it?” Although he'd said it with admirable neutrality Christian thought he could detect a touch of bitterness behind the words. Or maybe he was projecting: he didn't, after all, know a thing about this guy, just knew he appeared to be displaying some of the traits _he_ associated with a certain type of Asian guy, didn't mean that he was actually anything like those other guys.

Fact of the matter, however, was that whether he was like them, whether he was entirely different from them, Christian intended to have him, no matter what, no matter how long it might take.

Just wasn't sure how long he could keep that fact from becoming really, really obvious to Syed.

Wasn't entirely certain he _wanted_ to.

 


	4. Chapter 4

He played hard to get, as Christian had expected him to, but it had been surprisingly straightforward to get him to agree to a 'date' (of course neither of them were calling it that) the following day. Christian had the definite feeling that he was being viewed by this young pup as a dare, a chance to test his skill, see just how far he'd come in the game-playing he'd probably been seeking to perfect from the moment he looked into the mirror and realised that his looks were a passport to all kind of goodies in life.

Christian didn't mind being an experiment, a test. Didn't _know_ what Syed expected, but he was pretty happy to present him a nice little challenge, followed, of course, by an equally nice reward...

Well he hadn't exactly been looking for anything like this when he planned his break, had expected to meet someone in a club, perhaps, spend the night – that was pretty standard, something he did all the time. This, though, this was something he hadn't actually planned, and there was something about the way he was feeling about this guy that was definitely _not_ business as usual.

Obviously he didn't believe in love at first sight – it definitely wasn't that – but how about attraction at first sight, like on further meeting, affection after a half hour spent in his company? Hadn’t even taken that long. When you got talking to him you found a pretty different guy to the one you'd been watching for days. He really did come across differently once you got him on his own – witty, self-deprecating, with that intensely mischievous glint in his eye that Christian found absurdly, frighteningly hard to resist. There was just something about the way he looked at times that made you just know that once you got him under the sheets...

And he wasn't going to lie about it, sexual attraction was very, very high on the list of the things that were making the hairs on his body stand up. It was like that at times – the sexual chemistry between you and a guy so high it _gave_ you a high – and the only thing on your mind was to give in to it, get all that tension reaching a climax, and then coming down again. And that was great – for what it was. You'd fuck and then maybe sleep on it (or part ways) but generally once you were spent, the tension blown, you found you didn't have that much interest in them. If you were lucky it was mutual. Generally was since it had been a mostly chemical thing between you, and there'd not be much fuss or feelings hurt in the process.

It wasn't quite like that with Syed. He bloody _liked_ the guy, liked him so much more than he'd been expecting when he'd spent practically an entire week looking at and speculating about his arse. It _had_ been purely sexual then. Definitely not so much now, though, and yeah he knew he was playing with fire (Syed was not the sort of guy you could ever really be _casual_ with) but fuck if he could even think about making the _effort_ to try to talk himself out of it.

He was pretty certain that one of them was going to end up hurt, and for once he actually _did_ care, _didn't_ want it to be either, _did_ think he'd mind getting hurt this time...

 

**

As luck would have it, Sally, his youngest niece, had an accident in the park while he was looking after them, and he'd spent most of the day sorting that out, so when it came time for him to meet Syed for their unofficial first date he'd been very, very absent.

He hadn't taken his mobile number, couldn't get in touch with him any other way, but knew that if he didn't he'd have blown it big time. He knew guys like Syed – they always kept their promises. If they said they were going to be somewhere at a certain time then you'd better bloody believe they'd be there! They couldn't fathom how it was that there were people who actually weren't like this and for that reason tended to see everything you said as to why you hadn't been able to make it as just a pathetic excuse.

It worried him how fucking panicked he'd got as the clock moved inexorably to the point of no return; how determined he'd been to not let the day pass without him making contact with Syed, explain himself. He decided _not_ to tell him the real reason, however. Syed seemed like the kind of guy who'd be distracted by the involvement of hospitals, and kids being hurt, so better to make it something a little more mundane, but still family oriented. Christian was fairly sure this would be something Syed would be able to relate to.

He wasn't comfortable being less than honest with him – he'd already sussed that Syed was the type who really, really got their knickers in a twist about stuff like that – but had decided that Syed was also the type of guy where being completely open just wasn't the most sensible course of action.

He'd see this – being open with Syed - as a work-in-progress and update his informal 'rules' of operation as necessary.

Not that he need spend _too_ much time worrying about it – the chances of them actually having a _relationship_ were remote to say the least. 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

He'd expected Syed to give him a much harder time, but though he clearly wasn't the type to pretend he was chilled when he wasn't Christian got the distinct impression that Syed was as keen to not fuck this up as he was, so had elected to let it go this time.

Considering his wealth of experience with other men, with the intricate dance of social interaction, this really _shouldn't_ have had him fizzing inside the way it did. He was an old hand at this, but for some reason this bloody man made him feel like a wide-eyed, eager teenager, and the worst part was that he couldn't even pep talk himself out of the feeling the way he knew he _should_ have. Part of the reason he'd pretty much managed to get to the ripe old age of 30-something unscathed, hardly any battle scars to speak of was always being able to pep talk himself out of making stupid decisions – like staying in a toxic relationship when he should have been heading for the hills; like getting into bed with a guy he _knew_ was toxic simply because his cock said 'fuck yeah, gimme sum!' in a voice loud enough to drown out the quieter, more sensible voice of commonsense. But for the first time in years he was utterly unable to locate that voice, which, (and of course he could be wrong about this) seemed to point to no pep talks on the horizon for the foreseeable future.

This should, of course, have absolutely terrified him, but the enormously satisfied smile that greeted him in the mirror once he'd hung up the phone and turned his attention to preparing for their date that evening told a very different story.

He'd met some really special people in his life – friends – and it was only when he looked back that he wondered at the utter mundaneness of the initial meeting. In no case had there been any sign, any sign at all, that these people were destined to play a special role in his life.

He already felt that this thing with Syed was different, but did that necessarily equate to Syed being – or becoming – one of those people on that small list? The bald fact of the matter was that there was not a single person on that list who'd ever been a lover: it must have seemed, to the naked eye, that he held friendship in greater esteem than romantic partnership, and to be honest that wasn't exactly untrue, but not through any concrete belief or design, just through experience and circumstance. His friendships lasted, his romantic relationships tended not to, so he did tend to give more weight to the forging of strong platonic relationships, but wasn't going to pretend that a part of him didn't long for a deep and meaningful long-term partnership.

He just didn't want to put that kind of pressure on his budding friendship with Syed, had talked himself into simply accepting – and enjoying – it for what it was.

Tonight _would_ answer a lot of questions though. 

Didn't matter what happened in the long run, tonight Syed was going to answer some questions for him – whether he realised it or not... 


	6. Chapter 6

 

“Someone looks good. Smells it too.”

Graham was giving him a smile – make that a leer – of appreciation. He flirted quite outrageously, but was so ridiculously committed to Michael it wasn't even funny. Maybe that's why he flirted so much – _because_ it was so meaningless.

But it was wonderful being around them; couldn't beat being with people who knew where you were coming from because they were pretty much coming from the same place, too.

Christian knew he'd been spoilt, of course, with Brighton being so gay friendly, and it was often a shock to the system to go to other parts of the country, let alone the world, and find a rather different attitude prevailing. He knew he should try not to get too used to it, but deep down asked himself _why_ he should expect less, _expect_ to be given a hard time for his preference of romantic partner simply because most of the world made different choices. In principle he disapproved of the ghetto, but if it got you respect, safety, the certainty that while you might get insulted for your dress sense or your choice of companion it would never be because he wasn't the 'right' _gender_ then he was all for it!

He didn't _expect_ the world to change to suit him, but neither did he think it fair to expect him to change to suit the world. So far he and the world at large got on pretty well – sometimes he gave a little, oftentimes if he waited long enough the world did too...

“One of these days when Mikey's away I'm going to take you out clubbing – see if you’ve still got it.”

“Darling I _never_ had it.” He pinched a generous handful of surplus fat at his waist. “Always been a big boy, never really got into the party scene.”

“Well trust me, it's not all it's cracked up to be.”

“Oh yeah? But you're going to test it till you _prove_ the theory?”

Christian laughed. “To think you don't even know me – and yet you know me so well.”

“Well, sweetie, if I looked like you then I'd be doing the same. Believe me!”

Laughing still, Christian took his leave, cheekily telling him not to wait up.

Yeah, partying and clubbing always seemed so attractive from the outside; couples always wanted to re-experience the single life, when all it seemed _singles_ wanted was to have exactly what they had.

Sighing, he started the car, wondering why the grass always seemed to be that much greener on the other side of the stream...

 

**

 

Syed looked hot: he'd done something to his hair, was wearing a really flattering pair of jeans and a form fitting top, but it was more that he gave the impression of being really, really up for it. There was were some guys who loved sex, some who did it because it was expected, but just went through the motions most of the time. Syed was in the first category. It wasn't anything that could be taught or _hoped_ for – you either had it or you didn't. And Syed had it – in spades. Jo had talked about girls being attracted to him, but guys were too. Christian just didn't think he _noticed_ as much since guys were naturally a little more circumspect when it came to eyeing up other guys in public, and yeah Syed was too. He hadn't come out, that was for damn sure, and for all that he'd flirted with Christian all day yesterday Christian wouldn't have said he'd exactly come out to himself either. But never mind all that – he was hot, and though Christian didn't kid himself that anything Syed related would be plain sailing he had a feeling that the _sex_ would be.

It was like he gave off a scent or something, something that had the bees absolutely _swarming_ , and for all that he appeared quite shy, quite low key he was intelligent and perceptive enough to be very _aware_ of his appeal. Christian just thought that he didn't _really_ understand that it was very much _sex_ appeal that created the initial hum of interest; after which his personally either made admirers stay or go.

Christian had always imagined it one of the worst feelings in the world to be a woman attracted to a gay man. He had no doubt that there were several girls in this very town who'd soon be at the business end of heartbreak when it came to Syed Masood, for they would never believe he was gay, would never believe that a man who liked women, was as charming to women as he was could have _no_ sexual interest in them whatsoever and would, therefore, forever look to a fault within themselves for the reason why they hadn't managed to land him.

In his experience women who fell in love with gay men often stayed that way for a very long time. He supposed that, for these women, it was probably akin to the ideal fantasy love or something, something that couldn't be tarnished by the reality of a warts and all relationship. You could pretty much forever hold that guy up as an ideal – perfect guy who you'd just never _quite_ managed to have sex with - and fool yourself into believing that you could be the one who, if you ever _did_ , could make all the difference, change his orientation from other blokes – to _you_.

He'd seen it enough times to recognise that it was a thing – a dangerous, potentially heartbreaking trap that far too many women fell into. He'd been told so many times by so many women that if he weren't into guys he'd be the absolutely perfect boyfriend. This always amused him: if he weren't into other guys why then he'd be straight and more than likely very much not the perfect boyfriend at all.

He really should have told these women exactly how perfect his boyfriends thought he was. Not that they'd listen, not that it would make any difference; fact is straight women liked gay men, sometimes fell in love with them and thus gave themselves _twice_ as many opportunities to get their hearts broken.

He was careful to avoid this as much as possible, but was pretty sure that for Syed that possibility wasn't even on his list of _potential_ hazards. Well he still had a lot to learn – about life in general, life as a gay man in particular.

Christian counted himself as one who was more than ready to further Syed's education to the very _best_ of his quite considerable ability.


	7. Chapter 7

 

“So, what do you fancy?”

“Fancy?”

Christian grinned at him. “Doing.”

Syed laughed – a cheeky, flirty laugh, that made Christian want to engulf him in a bear hug. “What are my options?”

“Eating.”

“Hmm.”

“Dancing.”

“Hmm.”

“Watching a film.”

“At the cinema,” he confirmed.

“Well, yeah.”

“Pass.”

Christian laughed. “Okay, me either, but it was worth a shot. So, restaurant?”

“So long as it's not a curry.”

Christian pretended outrage. “You don't like curry? Blasphemy!”

“How about a traditional English?”

“Kebab and chips? I was thinking a _little_ more up market.”

“ _Cod_ and chips?”

“ _You_ can read me like a bloody book!”

Syed grinned but did not reply.

**

Syed had never had French food before and wasn't at all hesitant in letting Christian know that his choice met with approval.

Syed was obviously a guy who loved the sensual pleasures of life, for though he'd been pretty relaxed before, over dinner Christian sensed the barriers coming down one by one, as he indulged himself in the culinary delights of well-presented cuisine.

Christian had intended to keep it light – the fare – since he planned to take him dancing later, but Syed was having none of it, indulging his palate without hesitation or inhibition.

Well he'd sensed that Syed was a sensualist, but having further – concrete - evidence of this made all his carefully laid plans almost come to naught, as he pretty much had to sternly tell himself that no, it wasn't the brightest idea to act on the urge to grab him and take him right there on the table.

It was clear to Christian that though Syed _did_ know he was attractive, the flirting was instinctual, just part of who he was, he had no _real_ clue just how sexy he actually was. That kind of thing – hotness – wasn't anything you knew you had; it was something you could know that other _people_ thought you had, but not something you could quantify for yourself. You might think it was the way you smiled, or the way you looked, the six pack abs, the long legs, but sometimes it was simply the expression in your eyes; the way you moved, the fact that every time anyone looked at you all they thought about was getting you naked and writhing...

“You speak French then.” He was staring at Syed's mouth – couldn't help himself: the way he'd been sucking on his fingers...

He paused, surprised. “Yes, a bit. Why?”

“The way you ordered, the way you spoke to the waitress. You've got a good accent, sounded like you knew what you were doing – saying.” He laughed. “Me I just say it and hope for the best.”

Syed smiled. “Well I learned at school, and haven't really used it since, but I did like it.”

“Ever been to France?”

“With the school years ago. Trip to Paris.”

“How old are you – if you don't mind me asking.”

“Old enough,” he said coyly.

Christian laughed. “Good answer.”

“I'm 19.”

Christian nodded. He already knew how old he was, just wanted to see how he'd tackle the question. “I'm 30.”

Syed put his head to one side. “Really? I thought you were in your mid twenties.”

“Oh flatterer. I like you, you can stay.”

“Well thanks for the permission slip, but I was going to anyway.”

When their eyes met and held, Christian started counting in his head, for the first time in a long time, uncertain whether or not _he'd_ be the first to look away... 


	8. Chapter 8

 

“Well, yes, it's popular with gays, but I wouldn't call it a gay club, per se.”

“What's the difference?” When he saw Christian's quizzical look he elaborated. “Between a club that's popular with gays, and a gay club proper.”

“Well first of all there is nothing 'proper' about any self-respecting gay club! Do me a favour. I would never go to a 'proper' gay club.”

Syed shook his head. “You know what I mean.”

Christian grinned, relenting. He'd never let on just how thrilled he was to see that Syed was absolutely on the same wavelength. Nothing worse than making quips or witty asides to a blank faced audience. Syed may not have been as worldly as the guys he usually went for, but his quick intelligence more than made up for it. “Well it's probably similar to how you'dfeel being in a supermarket - Tesco's, say – that had a shelf of ingredients – spices, sauces - aimed at those who cooked Indian and Pakistani cuisine, as opposed to shopping at a traditional Asian supermarket. They both sort of have what you want, except the Asian supermarket actually understands what you want and you know it, you feel it – you feel completely at home there, confident you'll get what you want no probs. In Tesco you might get a _couple_ of things, but it's only on _one_ shelf, and it's pretty clear that the shop's really not geared toward you and your needs and wants – at all.” He stopped when he saw Syed's grin. “What?”

“You've given that a lot of thought.”

“No, I just wanted to see if I could find a decent analogy.”

“I'm not a Muslim or a Pakistani before everything else, you know.” This was said with surprising mildness, given his previous reaction whenever Christian had made even the most veiled reference to his faith or ethnicity.

“Well, I never got so far as to presume you were.”

“But that's sort of what you think though, isn't it? That I'm a typical Muslim guy – don't smoke, don't drink.” He looked into Christian's eyes. “Don't do anything else.”

Christian shrugged. “Not put you in a box, yet, Syed. I'm still trying to work you out. Give me a couple of days to find a box that fits.”

Syed's ready smile showed that he got it, and was amused. “Please let me know when you do. Can't wait to see it.”

Christian winked, reached over and patted the hand lying loosely on the lean, denim clad knee.

He considered leaving it there, but thought better of it.

He had plenty of time to get Syed to the point when he wouldn't think twice about going there with him, no point in being greedy...

 

**

“You've done this before.”

“What, danced to music?” His smile was cheeky.

“You gave the impression that you didn’t really go out on the town, much.”

“I don't. I do dance to music, though. Can you not have one without the other?” 

He had the disingenuous look – and tone – down. Christian would have to be careful with that, careful not to be sucked in by him. He already felt that he had been – a little. “I've misjudged you.”

“Oh I don't know.” He came closer, not quite touching him, but certainly _inviting_ a touch. “You knew I'd like this.”

Since it was impolite to resist such a blatant invitation, Christian slid both hands around Syed's waist, and pulled him even closer. “Do you? Like this?” Syed's eyes were shining, soft with arousal, and he clearly felt that there was no need to give a verbal response to such a superfluous question.

Sliding both arms around Christian's neck and staring into his eyes seemed to be all the answer he deemed necessary...


	9. Chapter 9

 

He'd expected to take him to the hotel – maybe, if things went as well as he expected them to – so was quite surprised when Syed asked to be taken home. It was quite clear, however, that he wasn't being told 'thanks, but no thanks', not even being cock-teased; Syed simply felt more comfortable in his own space, probably assumed that being in his own environment would make him feel more in control of things. No problem, no problem at all. If Syed wanted to run the show Christian was more than happy to let him do exactly that: it'd be interesting to see how he did. Christian was 100% certain Syed was a virgin, despite all evidence to the contrary and wanted to see how he'd handle himself when it came down to the nitty gritty.

The sexual tension between them was off the charts and he could see Syed practically salivating at the prospect of getting him out of the car, out of his clothes and into his bed (probably one of those narrow student beds, but hey, he'd cope). He hadn't been over optimistic – Syed was definitely up for it. Now he'd just have to ensure that _he_ wasn't the one being too eager, too greedy. Greed was a vice you'd most definitely have to guard against when it came to this guy. He could already see that...

Yes, everything was going really well – until they actually got inside the house (massive thing – they were obviously offering students ridiculous loan amounts...) which is when things went completely pear-shaped.

Syed changed, before his eyes he morphed into a completely different person: Christian swore he saw a yarmulke appear on his head, a prayer mat at his feet – the shadow of the Koran huge and intimidating behind him.

He became a scared rabbit, ashamed, humiliated – and nothing had happened, no-one had even _seen_ them. It was enough, though, that there was the _prospect_ of being seen, being seen by people he knew. When they'd been out together, in the club, in the restaurant, Syed must have been pretty confident that he'd be unlikely to encounter anyone he knew and had acted accordingly – like someone out and proud, not giving a damn what anyone thought.

That hadn't been the real man – that much was clear. _This_ was the real Syed – a good Muslim, someone playing it straight for all who knew him, someone who looked like it would kill him if any of them were to _ever_ discover that he liked the thought – the prospect – of fucking other guys.

It felt like someone had just upended a bucket of icy water over his head, but though he was severely disappointed at this turn of events the overriding emotion was pity – pity for Syed, pity for him having to live like this, live in fear of anyone ever finding out who he really was. He knew how real this was, had dated enough Asian guys, enough in-the-closet guys to appreciate the severity of the problem, and because of this wasn't even angry with him. A few years back he'd have been quite cutting, given him a right earful about gay pride etc etc. maturity had seen to it that he'd never again lecture anyone about their sexuality, about what they chose to do to survive in the world. He'd seen too much to ever again assume that he had that right or that he even understood enough to pass any kind of judgement.

Clearly Syed wanted him; clearly Syed wanted to be able to be with him as easily and casually as Christian was able to choose to be with him. Clearly it just wasn't as straightforward as they both wanted it to be. So he could make the guy feel even more humiliated than he already did, or make it okay.

Was there any other option _besides_ Door Number 2?

 

**

“Well, I was not expecting this.” Graham was passing a duster over the expensively framed pictures they had hanging on every wall in the lobby. Midnight and he'd probably still be running the hoover over the spotless carpets. Christian was pretty sure his neatness (to put it politely) would drive him crazy should he be forced to live with him 24/7, but as a guest in his establishment it was very reassuring...

“Yeah, upright and not reeking of booze.”

“Well I don't know you very well, but you don't seem the type who _would_ be.”

Christian snorted. “I have my moments.”

Graham gave him a quick, very discreet once over before casually returning to his task. “I wasn't expecting you to be alone,” he clarified.

Christian shrugged, even though he knew Graham couldn't see him. “Long story.”

“Ah.”

“Yep.” He wasn't prepared to talk about it, even if Graham had expressed an interest in h _earing_ this long story. “Gonna turn in. See you in the morning.” He headed toward the staircase.

“Got some lovely Colombian. I'll bring it up for you later, shall I?”

Christian hesitated. Now in any other situation, with any other bloke he'd have to believe he was being blatantly propositioned, but this was Graham, so married he was practically a eunuch.. “Er, Colombian?”

Graham glanced at him, then shook his head, and then the duster. “Coffee, silly. Do I look like a drug dealer?”

“Well I've heard the best dealers are the ones you just wouldn't expect.” He was smiling now, genuinely amused. “And if I was in the market for coke I guess this would be the time.”

He saw Graham's glance sharpen and cursed himself. He was fairly sure, now, that the Colombian would come with an offer – to chat – and tempting as that might have been, nope, still not going to...

**

The Colombian did indeed come with an offer – not so much an offer to chat, so much as an offer to listen. Christian politely declined, citing disappointment as the reason and had to assume that Graham had been disappointed many, many times in his life for he accepted that as a perfectly reasonable and valid reason to take to one's bed. His sympathetic little pat on Christian's arm spoke volumes.

Nice bloke – they both were.

Didn't change the fact that no matter how nice they were neither of them was Syed, and Syed filled ever cubic centimetre of his mind right now...

**

Was it him? Did he have a knack of being attracted to the challenging ones? He'd been in love once, and that had been pretty full-on – the highs really high, the lows – really low. Since then he'd told himself that he was all about simply enjoying the experience of being with someone, not looking to fall in love any time soon. Didn't really get why so many guys seemed to go out looking for the Perfect Guy all the time, tried to see him in every guy they encountered. Being in love wasn't at all what he'd expected: being so attached to another guy...nope, not something he was keen to experience again.

And wasn't  _this_ the perfect illustration of why? He'd only known Syed one day – one fucking day – and already he was attached. No point in denying it now – he was practically distraught at the rejection, and it didn't have a thing to do with not fucking him. He'd watched him for a week, noting his little foibles, all the cute little things about him, so it did feel like he'd known him for longer, but still... And he was a  _Muslim_ (that  _never_ ended well) just his bad luck that he had a weakness for Syed's type, not just looks, but more his personality type. Put the two things together and he'd been in a position of weakness from the start, and he'd known it, just hadn't been quite prepared for Syed himself – the lure of him, the irresistible lure of him.

At his age, with his experience, he should know better – take the blow and walk away, leave it be. It was already clear to him that he wasn't going to try to change Syed's mind, wouldn't make an effort to see him (had he been on shift that week then he'd have come to the shop to say goodbye, assure him there were no hard feelings, but he wasn't, so he wouldn't be able to), but though he'd taken the blow and would walk away, it most definitely wasn't okay – far from it.

Syed had got to him, and he wasn’t sure which of them he resented most for that...

 

 

**

 

The knock was a surprise: he'd been in the process of drying off after a shower and had to hastily throw on some clothes.

 

When he saw Syed's face, saw the expression in his eyes he didn't need an explanation. Pulling him into the room, he didn't ask permission, just pressed their lips together in a kiss that felt like a present he'd been putting off opening for ever...


End file.
